


The One Where Elio Fractures His Ankle

by elioolivercmbyntrash



Series: Elio & Oliver one shots [12]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: AU Modern Universe, Blankets, Fluff, Fractured Ankle, Hospitals, Hot Chocolate, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot, Sickfic, Snow, Snowball Fights, Teasing, Whump, ankle injury, wait if there's two parts it still counts as a one shot right?, well it does in my eyes anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:54:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25184398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elioolivercmbyntrash/pseuds/elioolivercmbyntrash
Summary: The title says it all, right?
Relationships: Oliver/Elio Perlman
Series: Elio & Oliver one shots [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1720645
Comments: 3
Kudos: 37





	The One Where Elio Fractures His Ankle

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT 19/07/2020 - I know I said this would be two parts however, I cannot get any inspiration for writing part 2. So, apologies for this. Real life has just got in the way. I need new inspiration and prompts.
> 
> Ah, the life of a fanfic writer.

Central Park is covered in a carpet of fresh snow, which glistens in the low January sunshine. It has become the battlefield for a group of Julliard sophomores, for a snowball fight of epic proportions. Rules: no teams, every person for themselves, and no snowballs in places that will fucking hurt because only jerks do that. 

Elio’s running to dodge a snowball, his cheeks bright red and numb, when he slips and yells out as he tries to break his fall. His left ankle twists in a funny way, and as he crashes to the ground he hears a snap. His ankle begins to throb, and Elio breathes in sharply as he tries to stand up. Brad, who’s snowball he was trying to miss, turns to look at him. 

“You OK, bro?” Brad asks.

“I’m fine,” Elio lies. He tries to place his left foot on the ground, but it sends a stabbing pain up through his ankle and he lands on his ass. Fuck. 

“It might be broken. You need to get it looked at,” says Brad.

A snowball flies through the air and hits Brad in the arm. “Fuck off, Dan. Elio’s hurt. I think his ankle’s broken.”

Elio wishes that the snow could swallow him up, or something, because no one else breaks their ankle falling over in a damn snowball fight. He’s grown up in Northern Italy, gone skiing numerous times and never broken a thing. His parents will never let him hear the end of it.

“Well,” says Brad, once Elio is sitting on a bench. “At least there’s plenty of snow around. We could put some on your ankle to help it a bit. But you need the hospital, man.”

“I’ll call Oliver,” he says.

Half an hour or so later, his ass going numb from the cold, Oliver finally arrives.

“So, a snowball fight eh?” says Oliver. “What did you do, you goose?”

Elio points to his ankle, which is now the size of a soccer ball. “I don’t know what I’ve done to it, but I can’t put any weight on it. And I’m in so much pain I feel sick.”

“It sounds, and looks, like it might be broken. Come on, honey. We need to go to the hospital.” Oliver stretches an arm out and helps Elio get to his feet.

Elio leans into Oliver, his brows furrowed as he tries to keep up with Oliver’s strides. “Slow down!” he cries, clasping Oliver’s arm. Oliver hesitates, and glances at Elio. All of the colour is gone from his face.

“Right, come here,” says Oliver, hoisting Elio up into a fireman’s lift, which is difficult considering Elio’s long limbs. 

“Put me down!” Elio protests. “I feel like….I don’t know if I’m going to pass out or throw up.”

“If you puke all over me, I will kill you. But only once we’ve got that ankle checked by a doctor.”

“Fuck,” says Elio. He tries to swallow down the bile and stomach acid that is rising up his throat, but when his head is at an angle it is hard to do. “Please, put me down.”

Oliver finally complies, and puts an arm around Elio. “Before I call a cab, are you going to hurl?”

“I don’t know.”

“Take some deep breaths. I think I have a bottle of water somewhere in my bag. Let me see. Ah, yes, here, have a sip of this, honey.”

Elio brings the bottle to his lips. His cheeks and the tip of his nose is pink, and there are streaks running from his eyes to his chin, like the streaks rain drops leave on dusty window panes. Oliver puts an arm around him and rubs his shoulder.

“I hate the snow,” Elio says. “I’m an idiot.”

“Do you mean just today, or most days? Because you’re right, you’re an idiot, but you’re my cute idiot.”

“Jerk.”

“I’m your adorable jerk,” says Oliver. “Ah, here’s a cab. Taxi!”

*

Elio takes deep breaths as the taxi drives them to the hospital. He’s not wearing his anti-motion sickness bands, and he’s not taken any tablets. He grips Oliver’s hand as the cab turns a corner, and swallows warm, bitter puke that’s risen up his throat. It threatens to surge back up as soon as he’s swallowed it. When they get to the hospital, Oliver hands the driver a fiffy - it’s all he has, tells him to keep the change - and scurries over to Elio’s side of the car. Elio’s already pushed the door open, and is retching onto the ground.

“Oh, goose,” says Oliver. “Thank God you didn’t upchuck all over the cab. Come on, lean on me. We’ll get that ankle looked at.”

They X-Ray Elio and confirm that his ankle is fractured. The doctor says something about a ‘lateral malleolus fracture’, which Elio  _ knows _ Oliver is pretending to understand. Oliver nods, and tilts his head to the side, as the doctor explains Elio’s treatment plan, and hums in agreement.

“You know, being a doctor means something here,” Elio says, when a nurse has gone to fetch Elio a boot and crutches.

“I am a doctor,” says Oliver.

“Yeah, of fucking _ philopsophy _ . How is that going to help fix my ankle? You’ll think about whether it’s good or right or whatever to fix it?”

Oliver chuckles. “You know Galen was a philosopher and a doctor?”

“Yeah, like, 10,000 years ago. He’d probably, like, try and cure my ankle by bloodletting or something.”

“Did you even listen to what the doctor was saying about your ankle?”

“Sure,” says Elio. “I don’t have to have surgery. That’s good enough for me.”

“Thank God I’m here, then,” says Oliver. “One of us needs to listen and be responsible.”

They put Elio in a hideous boot and give him crutches. Elio practices hopping round the room with them, while the nurse watches his technique and encourages him to put a little bit of weight on the fractured ankle.

“Wear gloves when you use them,” says the nurse. “It’ll prevent blisters.” He hands Elio some pain medication. 

  
  


*

  
  


“How am I meant to walk around campus with these stupid things when it’s snowing?” says Elio, pouting and folding his arms.

“You’ll be fine,” says Oliver. “They clear the snow from the paths, don’t they? Plus, the doctor has said you can put weight on your foot. Were you thinking of skipping school? Because that is not happening.”

“How can I play if I can’t use the foot pedals?”

“You can use them,” says Oliver. “Stop being so dramatic, you goose. Lift your leg, please.”

Elio obeys, and Oliver places a couple of pillows to raise his broken ankle, then places a bag of frozen peas on top.

“Do you remember when you had flu a couple of months ago and I loaned out that stupid slutty nurse’s costume?” Elio asks. “It would really cheer me up if you dressed up as one.” 

“No chance. Besides, do you really think I’d be able to find one that fits me?”

“Fine. Fuck you,” Elio’s bottom lip trembles. “It hurts.”

“Of course it hurts, sweetheart. It’s fractured. Sorry, though, you can’t have any more pain medicine for a couple of hours. The frozen peas will have to do.” Oliver kisses Elio’s nose. “Do you want to cuddle?” 

Elio nods, and Oliver joins him on the sofa bed. He places a throw over both of them, as Elio rests his head on Oliver’s shoulder. 

“You know, I’ve never ever broken anything before. I’ve gone skiing every year since I could walk, and I never once broke a bone. Now I’ve managed to break something by having a  _ snowball fight _ . Pathetic.”

“You’ve never broken anything? But you’re so clumsy.”

“Fuck you,” says Elio, hitting Oliver with a cushion. “If you’re going to be so mean you can go and make some hot chocolate. I’m still cold.”

“You’re always cold,” says Oliver, as he gets up. “Right, hot chocolate it is. With marshmallows, of course.”

*

Oliver places two mugs of hot chocolate on the end table, next to his side of the couch, and smiles. Elio is fast asleep, his chin resting on his chest. Oliver pulls the throw further up Elio’s chest, and kisses his forehead.


End file.
